I Shall Rise with Thy Rising
by Royari
Summary: DH SPOLIERS! 28 year old Lauren Montcreiff has long been a Harry Potter fan. But when a man shows up at her door asking for her daughter, she finds herself in a world where magic is at its centre...as is love. She must face her past for her daughter GWOC
1. Chapter One: Hours That Rejoice & Regret

**Disclaimer: **Moi, je ne suis pas JKR. Alors, s'il vous plaît - don't sue me! After all, no one else can live up to her. This disclaimer stands for the entire story.

**Notes:** For my fellow fans in the States or for anyone who doesn't know... flat is apartment, public schools are what's known as private schools in the States, digestive biscuits with chocolate are yummy, and I'll try to use British spellings and terminology, but I'm sorry if I miss something! Montcreiff is a name from some book that I've never read, but my mother mentioned it and I asked, so credit goes to the original author for that name. And also, all titles - of the story and chapters - are from poems by Algernon Charles Swinburne, of whom I would not yet have heard if it weren't for the wonderful series by Lightning on the Wave. Enjoy!

**Edit July 8th, 2010:** This chapter has now been Beta'ed by the wonderful Riham. I am very pleased that she's agreed to Beta this fic. :D

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**I Shall Rise with Thy Rising**

Chapter One: Hours That Rejoice and Regret

Twenty-eight year old Lauren Montcreiff would say that she was, for the most part, content. She and her daughter lived in a decent sized, three-bedroom home in Islington. They'd only just moved out of their dingy flat – in one of the darker sections of London – a few months ago, and neither was sorry to see it go. They'd made the move after Lauren got her long-awaited bonus and raise. In fact, the only thing Lauren really wanted was to find someone who wouldn't mind being with her despite her obsession with a series of books and her occasionally mischievous child. A few men had been attracted to her family name, one of wealth and aristocracy. Yet after dryly telling them that she'd only taken the name back after divorcing her husband of two years and that she and her family had the relationship of distant acquaintances at best, they often left rather quickly. She'd only taken the name back because her dislike for her ex-husband was greater than her dislike for her parents. The main reason for her estrangement was their views on life and their self-importance, but she would never forgive them for telling her to "get the brat aborted or get out of our life". No, there was no one who could make her give up Lily and that would never, ever change.

The doorbell rang and Lauren blinked. It was rather strange to be able to go to the door freely, rather than with a baseball bat, after over ten years in a neighbourhood where their neighbours were alcoholics, drug addicts, or insane ex-cons who wanted nothing more than to cause trouble. So she was, understandably, still nervous about approaching the door.

"Lily! Lilianna!" she snapped. Her daughter's head jerked up from her book, wearing a scowl at being interrupted during her favourite part. "Go to your room. I'll call you back out if you need to be here – after I make sure it's safe," she added.

Lily shot the comfy couch a longing look but took her book and retreated up the stairs, shaking a head of curly, auburn hair as she went.

As soon as she was sure her daughter had done as asked, Lauren let out a deep breath and shook her own head, moving the same curls her daughter had inherited. A glance out the window revealed only a man with messy black hair and rectangular glasses perched on his nose. Was that a_ cloak_ he was wearing? Lauren scowled. Great. She'd thought she'd left the teasing and strange salesmen behind.

With a sigh, she opened the door with an air of great suffering. The man appeared oblivious. "Hello? May I help you?" she asked.

"Mrs Montcreiff?" he queried.

"Ms," she corrected automatically.

"Ah." He blinked. "Er, may I come in?"

This caused a frown. "I think," she said icily, "that you'd best tell me why you're here before I call the police. I'm not in the habit of inviting strangers into my house."

He nodded in approval and said, "I wish more people would take that attitude, Ms Montcreiff, but I promise I mean neither you nor your daughter any harm. I've come about your daughter's acceptance to my school. I really think it would be more comfortable to discuss this inside."

Sighing in defeat, Lauren opened the door wider. There'd been a mix up, obviously. She was living comfortably but there was no way she had the finances to send her daughter to a public school. In a few years, perhaps, but not now.

"Please sit down," she invited. "I'm afraid there's been a mistake. We haven't applied to any schools."

"No, you might not have," he agreed. He looked around and frowned. "Speaking of your daughter, where is she? I think she should be here while we discuss this. Children don't like to be left out of discussions of their future."

"My daughter won't be joining us until I've worked out who you are and why you're here and whether or not you're safe to be around," she said flatly.

"I'm here about her acceptance to my school," the man repeated calmly, "and I've already told you that I mean you no harm."

"If I believed that every time someone said it, I'd be dead several times over," she retorted. Then her natural politeness took over and she asked, "Now, would you like anything to drink? I've got a pot of tea about ready."

"That would be wonderful, thank you." He was beginning to show signs of uneasiness and Lauren noticed them immediately. She was satisfied; whatever this man was looking for, he wasn't going to get it.

As she walked back to the drawing room, she grabbed a package of digestive biscuits and plopped them onto the table. She handed the man his tea and went back to the kitchen to get her own. She nibbled on a biscuit as she sat, watching him, and noted gleefully that he began to fidget. Her penetrating stare had been perfected and many salesmen had been sent away in full flight. She couldn't wait for this man to do the same.

"The tea is wonderful, thank you," he said, sounding strained.

Lauren continued to stare, now smiling into her half-eaten biscuit.

"Look," the man said, setting down his teacup, "I don't know how to do this, all right? I've never done it before, so I'm probably messing everything up and that's why this is going so horribly." Lauren actually thought it was going quite well as he was continuing to look more uncomfortable, but she didn't say anything. "Your daughter _has_ been accepted to my school. The children who've been sent offers to join the school have been tracked since birth. There hasn't been a mistake. You see," he paused and glanced at his teacup, "there's a world that you don't know anything about. A world where things are done and thought differently, where magic is the centre of our very being –"

Lauren held up a hand to cut him off. Her smile turned sharp and her eyes hardened. "I think you'd better leave," she said quietly. "Or were you going to continue and say my daughter's been accepted to Hogwarts?" She ignored the man's confusion. "I don't know who paid you, or if you just came for a lark, but I'm not stupid. I wouldn't mind if people were just making fun of me, but I won't let you do anything at my daughter's expense. Though, I must say, no one else has lasted as long as you without giving something away."

The man gave her a bemused smile as she gestured for him to get up. "How do you know about Hogwarts?"

Lauren scoffed. "Please. Stop. You're just being ridiculous. Who _doesn't_ know about Hogwarts? Next thing, you'll be asking me if I've heard of Harry Potter!" she snapped.

The man blanched and spluttered. "I thought – but – they said – Muggles!"

"I _know_ what Muggles are!" she cried. "And they don't exist – at least not by that name, because if _magic_ doesn't exist then why would we be called by any other name?"

He smiled in relief. "So you _are_ a Muggle. How do you know about Harry Potter and Hogwarts and magic, then?"

Lauren gave him a look that clearly questioned his intelligence. "Because," she said through gritted teeth, "Harry Potter is only _the_ best-selling series and I've only been obsessed with it for, oh, eighteen years, which you _already know – so would you please get out!_"

"The books were popular?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yes!" she said, flapping at him with her hands, trying to get him to leave. She didn't want her daughter being disappointed like so many other Harry Potter fans.

In confusion, he asked, "But _why_?"

She stopped, confused herself. "What?"

"Why," he repeated, "would anyone care about those books? Why would anyone care about what Harry Potter did?"

Lauren exploded. "Because we enjoyed them, you idiot! Because the books gave us a world we could escape into and something we could relate to with each other. Because despite everything Harry Potter went through, despite being a human being and having faults, he was still a good person and he triumphed over evil and went on living even though he'd been through so much! Because we could relate to him and other characters and feel their pain and because the books inspired so many people to read other things and to write their own stories. Because they were just _damn_ _good_," she hissed, keeping her voice down so her daughter wouldn't hear her swearing.

For some reason, the man blushed, and this just annoyed Lauren even more.

"It wasn't like that," he said quietly, and Lauren stared. "I'm no better a person than Ron or Hermione or Ginny or anyone else who fought. I couldn't have done anything I did if I didn't have someone there to help me, or if there weren't people willing to die to defeat Voldemort. I'm no hero. I could do something no one else could, so I did it, and maybe I _am_ more powerful than some people, but that's just because of experience and what I had to do. I was afraid the books would make me out to be some kind of hero and I'm not," he said tiredly.

"Wait a minute," said Lauren in disbelief. "Are you actually trying to pretend you're _Harry_ _Potter_?"

He gave her an even look as he raised his fringe, revealing the famous scar. Only then did she realize what a brilliant shade of green his eyes were.

Oh, crap.

Lauren shook her head in denial. Clearly, the scar was drawn on. In pen or Sharpie. It would wash off. When she returned with a damp, soapy cloth, the man looked amused. She almost shoved him back onto the sofa, where she proceeded to rub his forehead vigorously. It was only after a few minutes, when she saw him wince, that she gave up and began to process everything that had been said.

"Oh, crap," she moaned. Then she brightened. "Wait, no! You don't have a wand!" He pulled it out, but she continued. "That doesn't prove anything; I've got one myself. Forty bucks online, when I was at school. My friend ordered it for me and I paid her back. Magic, magic, I need to make you do a spell. But not one that could've been set up. If I break this," she said, pointing to her teacup, "can you fix it and remove the stain?" He nodded.

"_Reparo. Scourgify._"

Lauren blinked. She half-heartedly threw a biscuit at his head and a light-blue shield appeared just in time to block it. She hadn't heard an incantation or seen him move his wand. "Expecto patronum?" she asked weakly.

"_Expecto patronum_," he cast, and the silvery stag erupted from his wand.

"Oh, crap. I've been rude to Harry Potter," she whispered in utter horror, staring at him with the digestive biscuit packet clutched firmly in her hand.

"You believe me now?" he asked hopefully. "And you'll get your daughter?"

"I've been rude to Harry Potter. And he's you – you're him. I'm a complete failure in the name of Harry Potter fans. I'm – I'm _horrible_!" she wailed.

The man – Harry Potter – blinked. "No, you're not?" he tried.

Lauren ignored him. He wasn't a fan, what did he know? "Do you have any idea how many people would kill to meet you?" she asked. "I grew up at a boarding school in the States. Trust me. Nothing worse than angry teenage fans. And my generation is the one that went to midnight book releases, wrote angry hate mail to people who insulted JKR, and who argued with religious fanatics who insisted Harry Potter was converting people to Satanism. The fervour may have died down but we're still loyal," she said fiercely. "_We_ won't forget, not ever!"

"Um, thank you, but I really need –"

"I mean it, if there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"Actually, there is something." Lauren looked hopeful. "Could you please get your daughter?"

Lauren laughed ruefully. "All right, all right." She paused by the door. "I don't suppose," she hesitated, looking embarrassed, "that there's any way – I mean, I am a Muggle, aren't I?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

"Oh. I don't, I don't suppose that…there's any way I could, you know, go to Hogwarts?" she asked quickly. "I could, I don't know, teach something. If you don't have any positions open, I could teach Martial Arts. It's important for kids to be able to protect themselves and be in shape, and it helps with stress and I'm qualified. I have a degree in education as well as languages, and I've earned three black belts so really, I know what I'm doing," she rambled.

"I'll have to speak with my colleagues," he replied. "Your daughter?"

Lauren took the hint and returned with her daughter, only to give him a pleading gaze. "I don't want to lose her," she said quietly.

Harry could feel himself wavering. "I'll see what I can do," he promised.

And so, Lauren found herself relaxing in the presence of a man for the first time since the conception of her daughter, and it was with tinges of both relief and regret that she threw her head back and laughed, long and loud.

Harry Potter, indeed.


	2. Chapter Two: Thy Depths Conceal

**Notes:** Sorry for the wait, but I think it will be about a month between each chapter. I'm sorry that I can't update more often, but both real life and my other stories take time. Please see the first chapter for my disclaimer. I won't be making a reference to it after this, because I think it's obvious that we're not JKR and this is, well, fan fiction. If you have any comments on how to improve my story, or if something seems awkward to you, feel free to leave me a review telling me what I can do to make the story better - and I'd love to hear from you if you enjoy it, too! Also, keep in mind that I'm the only one editing this, so if there's a typo or something, that means I haven't caught it, and it would be helpful to me if you could point it out. Thanks!

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**I Shall Rise with Thy Rising**

Chapter Two: Thy Depths Conceal

"So, this is Hogwarts?" asked Lauren doubtfully. She glanced at something that appeared to be a pile of rubble. Stupid muggle-warding spells.

"Oh, er, here," said Harry quickly, as he muttered a complicated Latin charm at her. Lauren didn't even pretend to understand, merely saying that a castle was much nicer than a rubbish heap.

"Come along, Lilianna," said Lauren regally, as she led her daughter forth. Harry shook his head and followed behind them, a bemused smile on his face as he watched mother and daughter.

It was a warm day, only a week after Harry had appeared on the Montcreiffs' doorstop. True to his word, Harry had spoken with the other professors and they had agreed – albeit reluctantly – to let Lauren teach Martial Arts. He'd chosen to ignore the uneasy murmurs about allowing a muggle into their midst. But the day was cheerful and Harry, with a cooling charm making his longs slacks and robes bearable, strode to catch up with Hogwarts' newest residents. Lauren was busy muttering to herself.

"Oh, the lake, of course, how could I forget it was there? And Hagrid's hut – he is still there, isn't he? The Forbidden Forest – centaurs, and Acrumentulas - the Giant Squid – merpeople – Grawp, too, I'm sure – and the Quidditch pitch, who wouldn't remember it? And – oh."

Lauren paused as Hogwarts came into full, glorious sight. Before, she'd only seen it in the distance, a mother dragon residing over her egg – but now the full force of a thousand-year-old piece of history hit her – and it was _magnificent_.

"It's gorgeous," she breathed.

Harry stopped next to her and inclined his head, allowing himself a rare moment of reminiscing – of days when his greatest concern was making a friend. Of days before the war, days when all those who had perished were still alive. Of the past. After a moment, he shook his head and tried to answer Lauren's many questions.

"Yes, Hagrid's still there. Some of the older students help him out, especially when he leaves to visit his brother. Grawp was moved back into the mountains – giants are much more respected now. Well, more feared, really, but wizards leave them alone for the most part. We made sure Grawp was protected, of course."

"Good," said Lauren decisively. "I can't imagine people being mean to Hagrid, he's such a sweetheart, but the world is full of idiots. Lily, come back here!"

The girl turned a guilty head towards her mother. "Oh, mum. Er, just looking at the bird."

Lauren leveled a glare at her. "I think we'd best get you out of the sun," she said sweetly.

Lily looked confused.

Lauren clarified, "Clearly the sun's addling your brain, if you can't remember anything about the forest. Forbidden, remember? You'll be listening to Harry – and no sneaking off!"

The young girl nodded sweetly, and her mother poked her. "Promise," insisted Lauren. Lily rolled her eyes.

"I promise," she said grudgingly.

"Thaaaaaaaat…?" hinted Lauren.

"That I won't go sneaking off into the forest!"

Lauren nodded, satisfied. "That'll have to do. I don't want you to be a stick in the mud, but I don't want you dying, either."

Harry held the door open for them, and they quieted as they entered the castle. It was a historical moment, for never before had Hogwarts welcomed a muggle as a professor. The halls were lit with sporadic torches and floating balls of blue flame. Lauren recognized it as Hermione's work immediately and, when asked, Harry confirmed her thought.

"Hermione works in Magical Law and Ron's still an auror, but they've always got a new idea when they come to visit. Just before the Leaving Feast, Hermione set up some of these things that give off light _and_ heat in the dungeons, and they're spelled to start up in the winter."

As they passed the Great Hall, Harry mentioned all the new inventions Hermione had brought by in the past year and they were only stopped when Lily asked to get a book out of her bag. Harry groaned when she picked out _Hogwarts_: _A_ _History_. Lauren shook her head in despair.

"Just because you haven't read it, doesn't mean it's not useful!" said Lily defensively. "Besides, Hermione always found it helpful. And I'd rather be like _her_ academically."

Harry raised his arms to fend her off. "I don't blame you, but there's one thing I'll never do – and it's read that book! But if you want to," he added hastily, "I'm sure you'll, er, enjoy it."

"So professional, Harry," Lauren teased as she jabbed a suit of armor. Something growled at her and she stuck out her tongue in the general direction of the noise.

Harry shook his head. It was rather hard to keep the professional atmosphere up with someone who repeated called him Harry, squealed, poked things, and acted otherwise hyper – unless she was acting threatening. Lily seemed like a levelheaded saint in comparison. When he voiced that thought, though, Lauren groaned.

"Now you'll get her really going," she ruefully.

Lily looked up from her book with wide, innocent eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, mum. I'm just reading about the history of every ghost Hogwarts has ever had. Did you know that in 1298, a ghost named Frederic was in charge of meal preparations? The biggest complaint that year was that the food wasn't very substantive," she read eagerly.

Lauren caught Harry's eyes and pointed to her daughter, mouthing "Bookworm" in a stage whisper.

"I can see that, you know," said Lily, amused. "I _am_ a witch."

Lauren scoffed. "You don't have eyes in the back of your head. Only mothers do, and unless there's something you haven't told me…"

"I could always spell some or transfigure them or…or something."

"You could," her mother agreed. "But then you'd have eyes in the back of your head. Honestly, how likely is it that you'd be meeting the kinds of people you want to meet looking like that? I absolutely refuse to have sociopathic children in my house."

It was with a sense of relief that Harry left the Montcreiff's, exclaiming over their quarters, to go and warn the staff just what they'd gotten into…

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Lauren watched her daughter like a hawk, counting every bite that Lily took. She'd already prised three books out of her daughter's hands and had a sneaking suspicion that Harry was conspiring with another member of the staff. She distinctly heard someone say that, "There's no harm in reading. Young ones don't do enough of that these days." 

Lauren began to retort, saw a familiar short man, and squealed in delight. "_You're_ Professor Flitwick!"

"Yes," he agreed, wincing, "I am. You must be Ms Montcreiff."

"Lauren, please," she said graciously. "This will sound strange, but may I hug you?" She bestowed Flitwick with a hopeful smile.

Flitwick gave Harry a sideways look that clearly read, "Are you sure about her?" even as Lily's head shot up, and her horrified "_Mum_!" rang clearly across the room.

Lauren blushed. "I'm sorry. It's just so exciting to get to meet you! Well, not so much the people I haven't heard of, but I'm sure you're all very nice, too. Professor Flitwick, are you still Head of Ravenclaw? And do you still teach Charms?"

Flitwick hesitated and looked at his colleagues in confusion. When no one seemed inclined to save him from the mad muggle, he hesitantly answered, "Yes, I am. Perhaps we should hold off on the hug. After all, when the students are here, we will have to keep up an air of professionalism. It would do us all good to start practicing now."

Lauren nodded, disappointed. "Okay, Professor. Oh, Harry," she called out, making Harry, who had placed himself several seats away on the other side of Lily, jump. "Who teaches Herbology? Whatsisname said Sprout had retired…and the new guy took over a few years ago."

Harry looked up. "Actually, a school friend of mine took over Herbology. You should know him, I think, he's –"

"_NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!_" Lauren shrieked.

Harry started. "Er, yes."

"No, no," said Lauren, shaking her head. She pointed behind Harry and clearly enunciated, "Nev-ille Long-bot-tom. Herbology, you say? Oh, I remember that! How could I forget?"

Before Harry had a chance to reply, Lauren was out of her seat and bouncing over to the man who had just entered the room.

"Hi," said Lauren, "I'm Lauren Montcreiff. It's so amazing to meet you. How've you been? Traveling? Seen Luna around anywhere? A nice girl, if you ask me. What do you think?"

"About traveling or Luna?" asked Neville slowly.

Lauren hesitated. "Both," she answered firmly.

"Oh. Traveling is very good, I suppose, I get to see some really rare plants growing in their natural habitats – I never noticed that some commonly found plants actually grow in different shades in northern Italy and France, very rare those – and Luna's very nice. Are you teaching here, Ms Montcreiff?"

"Yes! I'm so excited! And call me Lauren, please. At least you didn't call me Mrs Montcreiff. People do that a lot, you know, and it's really annoying because Montcreiff - but, er, that's off topic a bit," she said reddening. Then she said, "I'm sorry if I seem a bit hyper, but you have no idea how grateful I am to be here. I mean, you guys are _legends_. But I'll get over it eventually, I promise," she said anxiously, suddenly realizing that she might be harming her daughter by being over-enthusiastic.

"What are you teaching, then?"

"Martial Arts. Do wizards have anything like that or is it just a muggle thing?" she asked, curiously. No one had asked her about it, or mentioned her job at all, and she was beginning to think that people weren't as welcoming to muggles as she'd hoped.

"No," said Neville, "I've never heard of it."

"Oh, okay, then," said Lauren, brightening. "I'll explain." And, to everyone's great surprise, she managed a concise explanation that was informative without being confusing to the wizards.

"So are you hoping to get all the students interested?" asked Thomas Maverill. "Perhaps we could tie that into the Muggle Studies curriculum. Students in my classes who take yours could receive extra credit."

Lauren shook her head. "I would love to collaborate with you; I think we could provide an excellent class – perhaps for a semester or so. But I think that making Martial Arts an extra credit choice would make students view it as something unimportant or easy that they will just ignore as beneath them. It would be useful for students who don't play Quidditch, and I'd like to make it a requirement for all students whom you suspect have a – less than pleasant home life. That point isn't negotiable," she said softly.

Lily shot her mum a concerned look and picked up where she'd left off. "Mum wants to have different levels; most people won't have done anything like this before, so the only advanced people would probably be muggleborns like me."

Lauren was able to speak again, pushing aside thoughts about her ex-husband and her family. "As Lily said, I'd like to divide up all the students into several different groups. Some people will naturally be more adept at stretching and remembering the poses, and I'd like to group people by ability. Each group will contain members of each House, and I'm thinking that we should meet three or four times a week. Of course, it will depend on what the students' schedules have free after they've chosen your classes," she added.

"Do you plan on having a lot of students sign up?" asked Anna Vector, a distant relation of the old Arithmancy teacher. "Our experience is that only a small percentage of the students want to take classes like Muggle Studies."

"I understand some students won't want to take it because it's something muggle and because I'm a muggle," said Lauren calmly, "but in my experience, Martial Arts has been very popular. It helps with stress relief, concentration, balance, relaxation, flexibility, defense, and offense. I could also class students based on what they want to learn," she mused. "I have to say, I think you're underestimating how powerful this can make people. I only started after I had Lily, but she's been taking ever since she could walk! She's already a black belt," she said, proudly, as Lily rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," Lily agreed, "but you have _three_. And she'd qualify for several other belts, too, but she's been too busy taking care of me." She exchanged a look with Lauren, then smiled mischievously. "I bet I could defeat any one of you. Only rule is no magic, and the winner is the first person to get the other subdued. Any takers?"

The professors exchanged uneasy looks. The Montcreiffs kept surprising them, acting so different from the witches and wizards they were used to. A child challenging them, indeed! When no one seemed likely to volunteer, Thomas stood up with a small smile. He knew, more than his other colleagues, how powerful Martial Arts could be, but he also realized that he was physically stronger than Lily. He'd just need to be careful not to hurt the little girl; her mother might be more of a challenge if he got her angry.

"Alright," said the man, placing his wand on the table in full view, "What do you want me to do?"

"Attack me," Lily instructed. "If this were a class, we'd be stretching before attempting anything, but I stretch every morning anyway, and it would just tire you out since you're not used to it. I'm just going to act on the defensive; I'll protect myself but I won't attack you. Ready?"

Without another word, the professor lunged towards the small girl; she dodged out of the way, bringing her leg up in a snap kick as he turned to face her. He stumbled backwards, then launched a half-hearted punch, and she grabbed his wrist, having him in a headlock before anyone could blink. With a swift kick, she knocked his legs out from under him, and the professor was subdued.

Lily released the man and returned to her mother's side. Thomas was breathing deeply, eyeing the girl, who showed no signs of breathlessness. As the professor continued breathing heavily and no one said anything, Lily began to wonder if she'd just doomed herself to a year with the professors against her, and the smug smile slipped off her face.

Thomas straightened up as he saw the little girl look worried, and he tried to calm his breathing as he sent her a strained smile. Ah. She looked even worse now. A few minutes later, his breathing was, for the most part, normal, so he gave her a large grin. Tentatively, she smiled back.

"I suppose that's what I get for underestimating you, Ms Montcreiff. I don't suppose professors can take your classes?" he asked Lauren.

Lauren nodded and said, "Of course they can. There's no age limit for this kind of activity – that makes it sounds like arts and crafts, doesn't it? – and we often have people much older than you begin intensive classes. Just let me know when you have classes to teach and you can either join a group or take private lessons."

"I shall look forward to it, Lauren," he said, with a smile.

Then Lauren thought of something and she only refrained from hitting her forehead because she got the feeling that her colleagues already thought she was insane. "Harry!" she chirped. "Don't you have a daughter starting at Hogwarts this year, too? And Ron and Hermione's son, Hugo? Maybe they'll be friends with my Lily!"

Harry nodded. "Yes, my daughter Lily. Her two older brothers are already here, Albus –"

"Severus and James," finished Lauren. "I know that the same way I know everything else," she added helpfully.

Harry frowned. "What else did she put in those books?" he muttered.

"Everything, basically."

"Everything?" he croaked.

"Oh, yes. And Harry, I'm sorry, but really – your sixth year? Why on _earth_ would you listen to a book?" she cried. Her fellow professors looked confused but Harry's expression soured.

"You sound like Hermione," he said shortly. "I don't see why you would bring that up. It's all in the past and I'd prefer it to stay there."

Lauren winced. "Sorry, that's not my place. It's just been annoying me for the better part of twelve years. Do you still play Quidditch?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. Lauren Montcreiff was not easy to understand. He was just preparing himself to answer another barrage of questions when he heard a familiar squeal and Lauren shrieked, "Ooh, a house elf! May I hug you?"


	3. Ch 3: The Red Moons Wane to White

**A/N:** *cough* So. Hey. Two years, huh? Well, that's... a very, very long time. Wow. Well, look at it this way: it won't be two years before the next chapter! And we meet George! Enjoy, review, leave thoughts! Love you guys, as always.

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**I Shall Rise with Thy Rising**

**Chapter Three: The Red Moons Wane to White**

Lauren shuffled her papers, making sure the edges met each other in a perfectly precise line. Nothing annoyed her more than a messy desk. Except maybe anti-Harry Potter people. And not having anything to do. Harry and the other professors, who'd been perfectly polite, seemed to think that she needed constant supervision. Whenever she left her chambers either a professor or ghost just _happened_ to be walking by. What made it even worse was the sense she had that her companions were only tolerating her because Harry wanted them to. All that train of thought served to do was make her doubt her decision to come to Hogwarts, so she normally tried to ignore it whenever possible.

With a sigh, Lauren put the papers down and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. The window caught her eye and she glanced speculatively at her bedroom. It had taken her a while to recall the Marauders' Map and once she had, she'd balked at the invasion of privacy. No wonder her every move seemed to be known by everyone but her.

A knock on the door interrupted her musings, which was probably a good thing as she'd been contemplating a James Bond-esque escape out her window for several days. Lauren Montcreiff's mind was a dangerous place when she was bored.

She opened the door with a bright smile and chirped, "Hiya, Harry!"

He smiled wryly. "Hullo, Lauren. Neville's showing Lily around the greenhouses and I figured you should know your way around Hogwarts before term starts. Where do you want to start?"

Lauren blinked. "Well… Could we start outside? I haven't been out there much, and I'd like to know the best, quickest ways to get around. If for nothing else than to be able to dodge bigoted students with a grudge." After a moment of hesitation, Lauren asked, "Harry, will you answer something honestly? How much danger is Lily in because I'm here?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at her wearily. "I honestly don't know. Some, I suppose, but then there will always be the fanatics who don't think she has a place here, regardless of your presence. I'm more worried about you," he said, frowning. "There's only so much Martial Arts can do against magic."

"I know. Could you ward my rooms so only you, Lily, or I can enter them? And would it be possible to change who has access to them at a later point in time?"

"Of course. I should have done that before now, but things kept coming up. Do you mind waiting for them until tomorrow? I don't want to put off a proper tour any longer."

"S'fine," she said dismissively. "As long as we can get it done before the term starts. So. Outside?" she hinted.

After grabbing a pen and notebook, Lauren followed Harry out the door and to the Quidditch Pitch.

"The main way's really the fastest," said Harry, "but if you don't mind a few extra minutes, you can always go by the lake and one of the side doors. Hagrid's hut is over there, near the forest," he said, pointing. "And there's where Care of – Lauren?"

Lauren didn't answer. She'd caught sight of a gleaming white tomb and she knew, as every true fan did, just who was buried there. "Oh, God," she murmured.

Harry followed her gaze and stood perfectly still. "I guess you know about Dumbledore, then. He was a good man, you know. Despite what they wrote in that damn _Prophet._"

"I know," she said. "I read about that and about how he died, too. And Harry, I – I'm sorry. I know he wasn't perfect or anything, but he was important to you and to your family and, well, it wasn't fair. You losing so many people, I mean." Harry was still looking straight ahead, and she flushed. "Look, I know it's none of my business, not really, but it's just hard – I feel like I know you all so well that it just seems strange that you don't know me. We grew up reading about you – not like in the _Prophet_, we all knew that was a load of bull – but you were so much more than that to us, more than the Boy Who Lived. You and Ron and Ginny and Hermione and Neville and McGonagall and Snape and the Weasleys and Remus and, God, just _everyone._ But we got to know you through those books, in some way, and it connected us in a way I don't think I can explain.

"I know this sounds corny but those books were – you know comfort food? – well, they were like that for people like me. And I suppose the books themselves wouldn't have been so consuming, but when I was in the States, my friend wrote fan-fiction, and I started reading it, and it was just what everyone thought would happen, how you all would react. And through that and discussions on the books, I guess everything just became real to us – even though, logically, it wasn't." She hesitated. "Does – does that make any sense to you?"

After a moment, he nodded, and Lauren couldn't help but feel relieved. He still wouldn't look at her, but she needed him to understand.

"I didn't," he cleared his throat a few times, "realize people felt so strongly about those books."

Lauren grinned. "Well you wouldn't, would you? 'Cause you're Harry, and you're completely oblivious about certain things. At least you finally got around to marrying Ginny," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing!" she said quickly. "Hey, what's that?" She pointed energetically to a large marble structure.

"That's a memorial." Harry cocked his head and tried to imagine how Lauren would feel after that announcement. He found that he couldn't. Seeing the memorial, even thinking about it, was always difficult. How could she really understand what it was like to raise Teddy Lupin, an orphan and his godson? Or how hard it was to see George there with no one to finish his sentences? Or to sit in the Headmaster's office, knowing the best person for the job was long dead? Those were things that couldn't be captured by a book, not really.

Lauren froze. Her hand was outstretched and her foot ready to take the next step. She pulled them back. "Oh." Now she couldn't take her eyes off it; it was so _big_. "Oh. I – I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"I know. Do – do you want to see it?"

She definitely wasn't imagining the strain in his voice. "No," she quickly assured him. "We should continue with the tour. I have to check over some things for the start of term with Lily, anyway, so we shouldn't take too long. Where to next?"

As they went through the grounds and back to the castle, Lauren cursed herself. What was she doing? Harry was going to think she was some sort of crazed fan girl if she kept this up. She needed to remember that Harry and his friends didn't really know her; she was practically a stranger to them! If she wanted their friendship and acceptance, she'd have to earn it, and not by acting like some sort of stalker. So she'd have to go about things without seeming too…awkward. She winced. This was going to be difficult.

So she followed Harry through the classrooms, jotting down notes she could use to help find her way and the few shortcuts she might be able to use. It was difficult not to burst out in apology but she rained the impulse in. If she were too effusive, she'd continue to freak everyone out. An apology _and_ an explanation for her behavior might help things a bit… The very idea was appalling. To explain things like that to people who were practically strangers was…exactly what she'd been expecting of Harry and his friends. _Bugger_. _Bugger_, _bugger_, _bugger_.

"Lauren?" Harry brushed his finger across the pear in the painting and kept his voice deceptively casual.

"Yes?"

"What did you mean when you said the books were a comfort to people like you?"

Lauren went very still. Perhaps if she ignored the question, he wouldn't insist on knowing an answer. "Huh?" She blinked and tried to look like she hadn't been paying any attention.

"You heard me," he said quietly.

"Oh. That." She hesitated. If she opened up to them, it might, possibly, make them a little less uncomfortable around her. She squirmed and fought down panic and images of her ex-husband. Although, as she'd probably end up hysterical and fighting to get away from them, most likely it wouldn't do any good.

Harry frowned as Lauren flinched and avoided his eyes, seeming to be debating over some internal conflict. Her earlier words, along with her emphasis on certain students taking her class, painted a far clearer picture of what she was trying to hide than he thought she realized. What was left to be known was if it were her parents or the ex-husband she had barely mentioned that still frightened her. It was difficult not to let the disgust he felt show on his face. Abuse was possibly the most sickening thing he had ever encountered in his days as an Auror. He couldn't imagine how someone could hurt their family when he loved his own so dearly and knew, from past experience, that he would die for them.

Lauren took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as she could. She could do this. All she had to do was close her eyes, open her mouth, and let herself remember. The first two were easy, but when she came to the third, she found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. Panic welled up and hate clawed and hated and hated and hated and _Oh_, _God_…. She shuddered.

She opened her eyes to tell Harry that she was sorry, that it was nothing to worry about but she just _couldn't_ talk about it, not yet, and found him staring at her with an understanding in his eyes that was painful to see. So she closed her eyes again so she didn't have to.

"I imagine you already know how to get into the kitchens, but this is the painting you need to keep an eye out for. We can get some lunch now, if you want," he offered.

Lauren nodded eagerly, even if he was obviously trying to change the subject.

"Master Headmaster Harry Potter!" chimed a few of the little creatures even as others beamed over their work and chirped variations of the title.

Lauren grinned.

Several house-elves swarmed around them, leading them to a small table.

"How can we be helping the Master Headmaster and the Professor?" asked one of them, a female, tilting her head and wiping her hands on her uniform.

"We'd like some lunch, please, whatever you have available."

The house-elf nodded and she spared those standing around a glare. They swarmed away and quickly returned, bearing sandwiches, pumpkin juice, and bowls of ice cream. The house-elf snapped her fingers and a stool appeared. She waited patiently for them to eat as she sat, her legs dangling far above the ground.

"The Master Headmaster is wanting something else from Mira?" she asked when they'd finished.

Harry gave her a fond smile. "You know me too well, Mira. Professor Montcreiff is a muggle and we're worried about the upcoming school year. We fear that she would not be able to defend herself from some of the older, more prejudiced students. You've proven yourself reliable and trustworthy, and I'd like you to help her adjust to our world, if you think you can be spared from the kitchens."

Mira blinked. "The Master Headmaster is wanting Mira to be Professor Montcreiff's personal elf?"

"No, I meant that I'd like you to be her guide and protector, if you can be spared. You'd still be given the same wages, if that's all right."

Mira leaned formed and beamed, causing the stool to rock. "I is having time! No one is hurting the Professor with Mira as her guard! Is you wanting me to start now?"

Giving the stool a concerned look, Harry said, "Not right now, no, we still have to finish our tour of the school. But if you can be free by this evening, I'm sure Professor Montcreiff would appreciate you showing her around. Thanks, Mira."

"You is welcome, Master Headmaster! I will be ready and will be meeting the Professor after dinner!" She nodded quickly and then climbed down the stool, returning to her work.

After lunch, the only places they had left to visit were Harry's office and the hospital wing. First they went to see Madam Pomfrey, who was busy restocking potions and other necessary items. She gave them a small smile when they entered the room and after placing the last potions on the shelf, she walked over and greeted them.

"Hello Harry, Professor Montcreiff. Can I help you?"

"We've just been taking a tour, Madam Pomfrey. Do you need any help?" Harry asked.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. "Thank you, no. I've just about finished restocking my infirmary and I'm afraid patient confidentiality means I can't ask for help looking over last year's files. Although I might have to take you up on that offer during the year. I'm not quite as young as I used to be and I swear, Headmaster Potter, those sons of yours are in here almost as often as you were."

Harry winced. As much as he loved Quidditch, it had landed him in the hospital wing almost as often as his altercations with Voldemort. At least he knew his sons weren't there because of the latter. Suddenly he frowned. "Wait a moment – just how often have they been here?"

Lauren giggled at Harry's slightly horrified amusement as Pompey started lecturing him on the dangers of Quidditch, and she was happy to interrupt with a cheerful reminder that they still had to see his office. Harry gratefully accepted the offer of escape.

"Wow," Lauren whispered. Slowly, she turned, trying to take in the magnitude of what she was seeing. She pushed down the longing to truly be part of this world and focused on memorizing as many details as she could.

She was in the Headmaster's office, where Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and now Harry had all resided. It was absolutely incredible.

The room was similar to the one described in the _Harry Potter_ books. A few of Dumbledore's gadgets were still strewn across the room, interspersed with books, the sword of Gryffindor, and photos of Harry and his family. Of course, the portraits of all the deceased headmasters and headmistresses hung on the wall, and they were observing her as intensely as she was observing them. Only Dumbledore's expression was comforting; he smiled kindly and his eyes twinkled. The rest wore expressions of uncertainty, disdain, or disgust. Lauren couldn't help but feel very small. Here she was, just a muggle, standing before some of the greatest witches and wizards! She started to attempt a wobbly curtsy and then stopped, feeling foolish.

"Hello," she said uncertainly. "I'm Professor Lauren Montcreiff. I'm going to be teaching Martial Arts this year. It's very nice to meet all of you."

Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle. "And you, my dear," he said seriously.

Immediately, a silly grin spread across Lauren's lips. She rocked back and forth, still grinning.

Harry looked a little scared. "What is it?"

"Albus Dumbledore said it's nice to meet me," she sang. "Albus Dumbledore thinks it's nice to meet me. I met Albus Dumbledore!" She twirled once and then gazed at Harry, tilting her head. "Dumbledore's man through and through," she murmured.

Harry went a little red, so she knew he'd heard her.

"Can portraits do Legillimency?"

Both Dumbledore and Harry looked at her in surprise.

"I told you," she said impatiently, "the books talked about _everything_."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I'd be interested in seeing those books, if you wouldn't mind paying a visit to an old man one afternoon."

"Of course I wouldn't mind," she chirped. Then she caught sight of the most recent, scowling portrait, and her eyes went wide. "Severus Snape," she breathed.

Albus Dumbledore's faults made him a better person. Harry Potter was very noble and heroic, and she still felt like he needed a big hug. Severus Snape, on the other hand, was just plain sneaky.

Lauren appreciated sneakiness. She thought it was a sign of genius.

Snape eyed her as though she were a hybrid specimen he wasn't quite sure what to do with.

"You're a muggle in Hogwarts," he said finally.

Lauren rolled her eyes. How original. "And you're the talking portrait of a dead guy. Clearly, death has taken its toll on your powers of observation."

Scorn crossed through his eyes. "At least _I_ have a right to be here."

Lauren rolled her eyes; if he was going to keep up these unoriginal statements, she was going to have to find a new way to express her exasperation. "At least _I'm_ alive," she countered. "Let's drop the whole prejudice thing, please. I may not be a witch but Lily Evans wasn't exactly a pureblood herself."

As Snape's face whitened and his eyes flashed accusingly to Harry, Lauren realized she'd overstepped a line.

"Umm, no," she managed. "Harry hasn't said anything to me. It was just, er, something I'd read about in one of the books. Not," she added hastily as he turned his glower onto her, "that that means it was true. I know you can't believe everything you read."

Harry intervened. "Lauren knows much about our world through the books, but I've been showing her around Hogwarts itself. I imagine it's a bit different reading about something than seeing it for yourself."

Eagerly, Lauren accepted the lifeline. "Yes, it is a bit. Although it definitely helps one adapt to a magical world."

"To answer your question, my dear, I know of no portrait who has retained his magical powers," said Dumbledore gently.

The other portraits were not so forgiving of Lauren's gaffe.

"Fancy a Slytherin falling in love with a Muggleborn," sneered one portrait.

"He not only failed as a Slytherin but as a headmaster as well," another agreed.

"How ridiculous," said a third, disapprovingly. "Such social mixing would never have been allowed in _my_ day."

Lauren tried. She really, really did. But listening to people bash her favorite _Harry Potter _characters had never been easy for her.

"Severus Snape," she hissed, "kicks _ass_. And don't you forget it!" She turned to face Harry. "If you don't mind showing me back to the greenhouses, Headmaster, I need to find my daughter."

She strode out the door, chin held high, leaving the stunned portraits to stare after her. Harry followed, wondering if he would ever stop being bemused by Lauren Montcreiff. He was beginning to think he wouldn't.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Lauren bit her lip miserably. "I've gone and ruined any chance I had of getting them to like me, haven't I?" she asked.

"Not necessarily," Harry said, still bemused. "Some will admire your spunk; others will hate you for much the same reason they hate me, Dumbledore, and everyone who holds our beliefs. Frankly, I think we're all a little more surprised by your defense of Snape. I assume you understand the irony of a muggle defending him?"

Lauren shrugged. "Classic case of supporting the underdog, I suppose. Severus Snape was a good man – a bastard, mind, but a good man. I always got the feeling that he cared for few people but loved those few intensely and completely. Lily and Professor Dumbledore were two of those few. He did rather a lot for your world, in his own way, despite hating it, and I suppose I admire him for it. I'm awfully glad he has a portrait," she said suddenly. "I was so afraid he wouldn't, and I think he deserves one."

"I had to fight with Professor McGonagall on that one," Harry admitted, "but she understood in the end. You see, when a Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts dies –whether while they're in office, or a hundred years later – his or her portrait automatically appears in the Head's office. In her anger, Professor McGonagall fought the magic that would create Snape's portrait. And even though I didn't like the man, I knew people had to know the truth."

"Thank you for that," she said quietly. "It means a lot to be able to speak to him, even if he hates me. There's some part of me that's drawn to him, although I know he'd naturally consider me beneath him. Still, what's done is done. If you don't mind, I think I'll go find Lily now. We have some things to discuss. No, don't worry, I can find my own way to the greenhouses. I have my notes, remember?" she said, waving the notebook with one hand.

Harry couldn't help but notice that Lauren seemed saddened as she hurried away, her expression unusually distant. The change made him uneasy.

Lauren's expression stifled any protest Lily might have made at being forced to abandon her quest for learning. It was an expression she'd learned to recognize. Lily forced herself to smile and led her mother back to their rooms. Unable to contain her relief when she found a house-elf waiting for them, Lily murmured instructions to Mira and ushered her mother inside to safety. For the first time since their arrival, the Montcreiffs were not present at a meal, and their absence increased Harry's unease. Instead, mother and daughter dined in their rooms, alternatively reading Charlotte Bronte and painting their nails.

Consequently, Lauren was unaware that they had guests.

_

* * *

_

_There is a reason, _Lauren thought to herself_, that children aren't allowed to use magic outside of school._

Lauren Montcreiff took a deep breath. _Calm_. _I need to stay calm._

Her eye twitched, and her grip tightened around the offending object. Screw calm. Her daughter was in _so_ much trouble.

Lauren tossed her head and shoulders back, going into her best Snape-esque stride. She flung the doors to the great hall open.

"_LILIANNA_ _MINERVA_ _MONTCREIFF_!" she bellowed. "_WHY IS MY FIRST EDITION ORIGINAL SEVERUS SNAPE DOLL __**PINK**__?!_"

Lily attempted to slip away during the resultant choking. Alas, her mother knew her too well, and just as she was about to climb out from under the end of the table, she glanced up and met her mother's displeased expression.

Crossing her arms, Lauren attempted to keep her stern expression as she felt the blood rushing to her head. She preferred the way the world looked when she was upright, not bent over like some sort of contortionist.

A polite cough interrupted the mother-daughter staring contest.

Straightening, Lauren found herself standing before a sea of redheads.

"Good morning," she said. "I'll be with you in just one second. Lily, answer the question."

Lily crossed her legs. "Well, that's the thing. I'm not entirely sure why it turned _pink_. I was trying to _Accio_ it. Which obviously didn't work."

The same person coughed again, just as politely as before. "If I may," interrupted one of the redheads, "I've found that, when my daughters cast spells before they began at Hogwarts, their accidental magic would redirect any harmful side-effects into a simple color change. Often, of course, into the most inopportune color," he said with a smile.

Lauren couldn't stop a flicker of amusement. "Yes," she agreed. "Severus Snape doesn't really seem the pink type."

The man flicked his wand and the Snape doll was returned to its original color. "I'm Percy Weasley, by the way, and this is my wife Audrey, and our two daughters, Molly and Lucy. Molly is the eldest," he added.

The introductions continued, although Lauren knew it would be a while before she could pick out one Weasley child from another.

"It's nice to finally put faces to all those names; I've read so much about you." No one looked like she'd just admitted to stalking them, so Lauren figured she'd managed to avoid sounding overly familiar. "If you ever have any questions about the books or the information they contain, feel free to ask me or Lily. We're happy to help."

"That's very sweet, dear," Mrs Weasley said kindly, "And I'm sure we'll take you up on it at some point. For now, why don't you join us for breakfast? There's no one sitting here." She placed her hand on the chair next to her.

Lauren slipped into the proffered chair, her expression hesitant as she placed the Snape doll on the table next to her plate. "Thank you, Mrs Weasley," she said shyly.

Mrs Weasley beamed back, her expression showing none of the unease she felt at the change in the girl before her from confidence to hesitancy. As she passed Lauren the dishes and made sure she received a healthy array of options, the startled, grateful look on Lauren's face reminded her uncomfortably of Harry during his first stay at the Burrow. Once she managed to tactfully bring up the subject of Lily, Lauren's face lit up immediately as she extolled her daughter's intelligence, kindness, and quirky sense of humor. During the war, Mrs Weasley had learned to recognize both physical and emotional damage. Now her skills were mostly called forth to deal with scraped knees and broken hearts – but she'd never forgotten the signs of deeper pain.

And Lauren Montcreiff was most certainly in deeper pain – pain that was lurking quite close to the surface, if she were reading the girl correctly.

* * *

Towards the end of the meal, the Weasleys, Potters, Montcreiffs, and staff of Hogwarts were all relatively calm and relaxed. Then, just as Lauren realized she'd never been introduced to George Weasley – which meant he must not have been present – and was about to question his absence, the doors to the Great Hall were flung open.

A redheaded man strode in; two girls trailed behind him.

Mrs Weasley glanced up, startled. "George!"

George looked up to greet his mother and saw Lauren sitting beside her. His lips tightened. "Go sit with your grandmother, girls," he said shortly. He gave Lauren an annoyed, almost hostile, once-over. "I told you to stop doing this, mum," he said evenly.

Then, without another word, he turned and left the Great Hall.

Lauren stared at the closed doors, bewildered. She turned as the woman next to her sighed.

"Mrs Weasley?" she asked, confused.

Mrs Weasley gave Lauren a sad smile and patted her hand. "It's not you, dear. I'm afraid this is my fault. I tried to introduce George to a few girls I thought he might like, and he didn't take well to it."

Lauren frowned. "I thought George was married to Angelina?"

"Mum passed away," said one of the girls thickly, glancing up only while speaking and quickly returning her gaze to the table in front of her.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," Lauren apologized. "I didn't know."

Mrs Weasley wrung her hands and lowered her voice so her granddaughters couldn't hear her. "As you may know, Angelina was a Quidditch player – a Chaser. She was killed in a Quidditch accident the summer before last. George hasn't been the same since. It's even worse than after Fr – after Fred died." She shuddered. "At least then he had Angelina. Now…" She trailed off. "I'd hoped if I could find a nice young woman, he wouldn't think about Angelina so much and could move on. He tolerated the first few girls, but I think I pushed him too far."

Lauren lowered her eyes. "Did they love each other?"

Mrs Weasley sighed, nodding. "Oh, yes. Very much."

"Then they were lucky, even if it didn't end the way they wanted." She got up abruptly. "Excuse me."

Lauren fastened her coat quickly, ignoring the confused gazes of those around her, and hid her trembling hands in her pockets.

"Mum?" Lily queried uneasily.

"I'm just going for a little walk, Lily. I think I put a bit too much sugar in my tea." But she didn't meet her daughter's gaze and she knew Lily could see through her excuse. So she added, "When you've finished eating, please put Severus back in my room."

"Okay," Lily said softly. "You sure you don't want me to come?"

"I'll be fine," Lauren assured her. She knew Lily wouldn't believe that either – God knows she rarely believed it herself – but she decided to leave before she worried her daughter any more.

With a half-hearted wave and an exit far less impressive than her entrance, Lauren headed towards the grounds.

* * *

She stopped several meters in front of it. Tilting her head, as Harry had done the day they arrived, she tried to imagine what it must have been like to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts, to see friends and family die around her. What if they had been there, and she'd lost Lily? Shuddering, Lauren wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the dizzying, desperate feeling she got whenever she thought about losing her daughter. Then she strode into the wind, elbows tucked under her underarms, tossing her head so her hair whipped out of her eyes and streamed behind her.

When she was close enough to touch it, she wished she had gloves and yet was glad she hadn't brought them. As painful as the cold marble was underneath her fingertips, it anchored her to the present and kept painful thoughts of the future away. She glided her fingers across the memorial, feeling the dips in the marble where names were engraved. _Black, Sirius, _she traced_. Creevey, Colin. Longbottom, Alice. Longbottom, Frank. Lupin, Nymphadora. Lupin, Remus. McKinnon, Marlene. Potter, James. Potter, Lily. Scrimgeour, Rufus. Snape, Severus. Weasley, Fred. _

And there were so many more names. Lauren fought down another wave of nausea and breathed deeply. Each time she exhaled, a cloud of condensation appeared on the surface of the marble, and she spent a few minutes watching the clouds appear and disappear as she breathed. She took a few steps backwards and peered at the top of the memorial, squinting against the sun. Slowly, she turned, examining her surroundings through the hair whipping around her face. It all made her feel rather small. Here she was – exactly where she and so many others had always wanted to be – and yet she could never truly be a part of the Wizarding world for the simple fact that she was a Muggle. For a brief moment, Lauren let herself feel the resentment that it was Lily, not she, who had been chosen to have magic. Then she shook her head, because it was more true to say that she didn't begrudge Lily the gift of magic – rather, she desperately longed to share in it. Lauren sighed; she had long since decided she was one of those people who would never get what they wanted most.

Except for Lily. Thank God for Lily. Though she may not have wanted a daughter at age seventeen, Lauren could never regret keeping Lily. As long as Lauren had her daughter, everything else was insignificant. Nothing really mattered besides taking care of her.

Glancing up, Lauren wasn't surprised to see Lily hurrying towards her, holding a pair of gloves in her own gloved hands. Lauren couldn't help but grin as Lily came closer, especially when an answering grin and look of relief appeared on her daughter's face. And once she was close enough, before she had a chance to say anything, Lauren scooped her up in her arms, twirling her around like she had when Lily was little. As they twirled, Lauren dipped her head to kiss the top of Lily's head, and the two giggled when she lost her balance and nearly toppled over.

Lauren beamed. At least she knew they would always be there for each other; they were a team.


End file.
